


When Did The World Get Big?

by rigbaby



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Divergent, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Confessions, Drabble, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Freeform, Friends to Lovers, Iwaizumi POV, Kissing, Light Smut, M/M, Mostly just making out, Mutual Pining, Non-Graphic Smut, Not Canon Compliant, Not dialogue heavy, Oikawa Tooru is a Brat, Oneshot, Secret Relationship, Sexual Inexperience, Teasing, Unrequited Love, self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29611728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rigbaby/pseuds/rigbaby
Summary: “Just friends,” they insist, but when they find themselves alone, it’s not long before they’re touching in places that friends don’t touch, whispering sweet things that friends don’t say.As Iwaizumi and Oikawa come to terms with just what their friendship has become, they struggle to keep it a secret. But sometimes, secrets can be fun.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 2
Kudos: 71





	When Did The World Get Big?

A tapping—pounding, more like—and a sing-song voice whining “Iwa-chan, you have to let me in!” pulls Hajime from his half-sleeping state.

“What the fuck?” he mutters to himself.

It’s Oikawa, of course. Hajime glances fervently around his room, listening out for his mother’s snoring, the telltale sign that she’s still fast asleep, before creeping over to the window and gently sliding it open.

“What the fuck,” he repeats, “are you doing here, Tooru?” Hajime hisses, still anxious that his mother will hear them, and have both of their guts for garters.

Oikawa starts, too loudly, too excited for eleven P.M on a Wednesday, ”I’ve got big news Iwa-chan! Just—“ Hajime puts a finger to the other's lips, cutting him off, and glares.

“Keep it down, Shittykawa. You can’t be here.”

Oikawa ignores this, and climbs into Hajime’s room before throwing himself atop the bed, not quietly in the least. “Sorry, sorry!” he laughs, holding his hands up. Then, more seriously, “Just, please listen. I wanted to tell you before anyone else,” he pouts, though he’s practically glowing with pride and exhilaration. Unfortunately, Hajime has a perpetual soft spot for his best friend, and quietly gives in. He knows there’s no stopping Oikawa when he gets like this.

“Fine,” Hajime sighs. “Just be quiet, I’m serious.” He treads lightly over to his bed, where Oikawa is now sitting patiently—though the drumming of his fingers against his knee gives his excitement away—and sits down beside him. “If my mom hears us, we’re dead meat.”

Oikawa is beaming at him like a maniac and Hajime can’t help but grin back. He catches himself staring at Oikawa’s perfectly straight teeth, and the way the corners of his eyes are crinkled with ecstasy. He has to fight to tear his gaze away from Oikawa’s stupid, beautiful face. He curses himself for being so enamoured.

“So...?” Hajime prompts.

“I got in. I got in to Tsukuba.”

Hajime should have known this is what was coming. “Holy shit.” He brings his hand up to rub the back of his neck, and looks into Oikawa’s eyes, which are gleaming with pride. “Shit, Oikawa.” Then— “I mean, of course you did. You’re amazing.”

Oikawa puffs his chest out in mock arrogance. “Ha, I know, right. Don’t flatter me too much, it might just go to my head.”

Hajime blushes inwardly. He has to start being meaner, harder, but he can’t help but let his guard down around Oikawa. He quirks an eyebrow. “Yeah, wouldn’t that be a disaster. Look at you, moving on to bigger and better things and leaving us little people behind.”

But he doesn’t mean it, and he knows Oikawa knows this. He pokes his tongue out and says, "You love me really."

 _I Do,_ Hajime wants to scream at him. _Of course I do, you bastard. I always will, more than any stupid girl who's ever been infatuated with you_ _._

Instead, he deadpans, “I think that’s just your head making things up.”

They fall easily into conversation about how Oikawa has gotten into the University of Tsukuba—ranked in the top four hundred in the _world_ —on a sports scholarship. Nobody expected anything less from such a dedicated and talented volleyball player. Naturally, his first semester is due to begin in April, leaving them with just a little over six months to prepare to live the following four years of their lives two thousand miles apart.

Despite his elation on Oikawa’s behalf, Hajime can’t help but feel a little disappointed. It’s awful of him, but somewhere deep down, he had hoped that Oikawa wouldn’t get in to a university so far away. If it were up to him, Hajime would keep Oikawa all for himself, forever. They’d never been far apart for long, for the majority of their lives; the two had grown up on the same street, born a month apart, no less, and had stuck to each other like glue since elementary school.

“I’ll miss you.” Hajime admits.

Oikawa closes the space between them and takes Hajime’s hand in his own. Their hands are both clammy, jittering with exhilaration, though neither of them seem to mind. Oikawa edges closer still, until their thighs bump against each other and their faces are almost touching. Hajime feels a little woozy—a giddy, sick sensation in his teeth. He wishes more than anything that he could keep Oikawa this close for the rest of their lives, wishes he could stop the rest of the world from seeing him in all his glory. It’s selfish, but he wants it nonetheless.

“I’ll never leave you, Iwa-chan. Not really,” Oikawa whispers into Hajime’s mouth, and the air in the room shifts, buzzing with something neither of them can understand. 

The close proximity of their bodies seems to have rendered Hajime speechless. Instead of forcing out something he doesn’t know how to put into words, he squeezes Oikawa’s hand tighter.

And before he can process it, Oikawa’s soft lips are on his. Hajime’s mind is working at a million miles an hour, his head swimming with intoxication. He’s confused, edging on delirious, but he can’t bring himself to pull away. They’re intertwined, and as something clicks into place, Hajime realises that this is all he’s ever wanted. He wants it so much. And all of a sudden it’s _too much_ , too intense, and he realises what he’s doing and somehow he’s pushing Oikawa away until they are separate entities again.

Oikawa looks dejected, and Hajime’s heart wrenches, yet the lie slips out effotlessly, as if it has been practiced over and over again. Maybe it has. “Tooru... you know i’m not—“

“Of course,” Oikawa cuts him off, but there’s a funny look on his face as he glances away. “Me neither. But we deserve a little fun before I go away, no?”

Hajime leans in once again and traces his fingers along the soft skin of Oikawa's cheek, and he can’t hold it in any more. “I don’t want you to leave me,” he murmurs. His eyes are on Oikawa’s soft brown ones and this time he can’t pull them away.

“I’m not leaving you. I won’t ever leave you, you know that.”

With this, Oikawa brings Hajime’s hand to his mouth and kisses his fingers, so softly, and it’s such an affectionate and genuine act that Hajime’s heart swells. He’s holding so much love for the boy in front of him that it makes him feel a little nauseous.

“You’re beautiful,” Oikawa says.

Hajime feels his cheeks color. “Shut up.”

And suddenly he’s panicking. Oikawa is his best friend. Best friends don’t say such beautiful things to each other, do they? Friends don’t kiss so tenderly; don’t feel so much yearning for one another that it’s as though their hearts are going to burst; so much arousal at the thought of each other’s lips? Yet there’s no denying that Hajime is stiff as a rod, and he has no doubt that Oikawa is, too.

Oikawa's hand is on Hajime’s pants now; fiddling with his waistband, and Hajime wishes he could tell him to stop, but he wants this more than anything. He’s wanted it forever, he just never knew how to put it into words—or actions—before. So he strips down to his boxers with no restraint at all and Oikawa does the same.

Oikawa puts a hand to Hajime’s chest, pushing him down onto the bed, and kisses him again, so sweetly. Lips he's known his whole life graze his cheeks, his nose, his neck; the perfectly manicured hands of a setter grab at his hips, as though he's been starving for this for years. Oikawa smells of something familiar that Hajime can't quite place—vanilla, maybe—and the tang of sweat and sexual frustration. Hajime kisses him back, eager, greedy. He doesn't know how he will ever stop, now that he has gotten his long overdue taste of the other boy. Once he draws his lips away, Hajime asks, “What are we doing?” but Oikawa presses a hand over his mouth.

“Shhhh,” he whines, so softly that Hajime wonders if it was only a breath. “It’s okay.” Oikawa shuffles down the bed and glimpses up at him with a question in his eyes.

“Of course,” Hajime exhales, ignoring the hammering in his chest. “You know I’ll always say yes to you, Tooru.” How could he ever say no to the boy who he has loved his entire life?

Once Hajime has given him the all clear, Oikawa swallows him whole. "Oh," Iwaizumi gasps out. " _Oh._ ”

It’s a mess of inexperience and swearing and soft moans, and it’s nothing short of perfect. It’s over with a second of pure euphoria, almost as quickly as it had begun. They lay next to each other for a silent moment, sweaty and panting (on a bed they’ve shared on countless sleepless nights as kids, discussing their wildest dreams and ambitions, Oikawa's always seeming so much wilder), the yearning tugging at Hajime’s chest threatening to make him pull Oikawa back on top of him for another blissful round.

To Hajime’s surprise, Oikawa starts to laugh. It’s his real laugh, the one that Hajime has come to learn is reserved for him alone. Hajime stares at him in a brief moment of awe, but then he’s snickering himself. They laugh and laugh until tears threaten to spill, at the sheer absurdity of it all, but also at themselves for taking so long to come to the realisation that this is what they had wanted all along.

They share a few minutes of hysteria until the tears in their eyes slowly become those of complete catharsis, until woe and longing and delirium are one and the same.

As they fall back into stillness, Oikawa rolls onto his side, so that he’s nose to nose with Hajime, breaths brushing heavy and warm over his face. Hajime takes this time to study Oikawa’s features, taking in the slight upturn of his dark eyes with their fluttering lashes; the slope of his nose; the curve of his lips. He wants to kiss every inch of his stupid, pretty face, paint his neck with bruises, until he's sure he will never forget how it feels to be so close to somebody so perfect. If only he could pause time, if just for this sliver of a moment, before Oikawa leaves and there’s two thousand miles between them. Hajime wants to live in this moment over and over—again, and again, until it is written in his memory and bone.

“You’re ridiculous.” Hajime says.

Oikawa laughs. “Of course I am. But you love it, don’t you, Iwa-chan?”

Hajime can’t deny that he does.

After this, their meetings gradually become more frequent. There’s a few months left of school before the freedom that summer break presents, but as the days draw on, the precious time they have left together grows ever shorter. They can’t afford to waste any of this, so whenever Oikawa isn’t by his side, Hajime’s head is buzzing with the things he wants to say and do to Oikawa when he sees him next, and the things he would like Oikawa to say and do to him.

And so they continue to learn the movements of each other’s bodies, every nook and curve and crevice, as if they are seeing one another for the first time all over again.

At school, Oikawa and Hajime watch from the sidelines as Hanamaki practises his serve. It’s Monday, officially a day scheduled to be taken off for rest, but the majority of the boy’s volleyball club find themselves in the gym after school anyway. It’s late October, so the sun is disappearing behind the horizon earlier than usual, basking the hall in a warm golden light. The sounds of the ball being hit, and hitting the floor in turn, along with the occasional enthusiastic shout and burst of laughter, bounce echoes off of the walls. Everybody seems to be in high spirits, and to Hajime’s dismay, Oikawa is even more so. While usually the two would wait until the others have left before they continue with their ‘unlawful business’ (as Oikawa had so graciously described it), it’s clear that today, he’s struggling to hold in his anticipation. Hajime can practically feel the lust swelling off of him in waves.

When nobody’s looking, Oikawa playfully grabs Hajime’s ass and whispers, warm and sultry in his ear, “Let’s have some fun later, Iwa-chan.”

Hajime almost chokes on the water that he’s drinking. He turns his head so that Oikawa doesn’t see the way his cheeks color, then elbows him in the ribs and scowls. “Piss off, someone’s going to notice, you moron.”

Oikawa rubs his side and pouts. “You don’t have to be so mean to me! Just act like we had an argument and no one’ll question a thing.”

Lately, he’s taken to riling Hajime up in front of the others; finding immense enjoyment in watching him squirm, seeing just how far he can push it until Hajime has to awkwardly excuse himself and tend to his more animal instincts in the bathroom. Now, Hajime is inwardly frustrated at just how successful the idiot’s attempts to turn him on have been, but all he can do is silently fume as he prepares to spike one of Oikawa’s perfect sets, and try to suppress the physical reaction his body is threatening to invoke.

Hajime has no doubt that a few of their teammates have caught on, though they would never say a thing. It’s not as though he and Oikawa are ashamed, it’s just that neither of them are even _out_ , and it seems like such an enormous thing to dump on people, what with Oikawa’s popularity, notably among the first and second year girls. Hajime debates whether it’s even worth the hassle, this late into their third year. Either way, he finds that keeping a secret makes their affairs all the more thrilling.

As always, Oikawa’s charisma and friendly demeanour—albeit not always genuine—never fails to have girls falling at his feet to earn his approval, and more ambitiously, his affection. Often, Hajime can’t help but feel a little smug. _Oh well,_ he thinks. _Later he belongs to me._

In some twisted way, he finds himself taking a kind of sick pleasure in watching Oikawa flirt with yet another girl who means nothing to him, messing with his hair as he dazzles her with his boyish charm, only to have his hands all over Hajime—and Hajime’s on him in turn—the second that they’re alone. “ _You’re the only one I want,”_ Oikawa will whisper, and Hajime can’t help but grin and push him harder against the wall; hands on his firm abdomen; tongue sliding into his pretty mouth; kissing him until their lips are sore.

As of late, this has been happening more and more often. “ _Just friends_ ,” they insist, but when they find themselves alone—be it in an empty classroom; the club’s locker room when they quietly slip away during practice; or catching one another between their respective classes to be pulled into a deserted bathroom or hallway—it’s not long before they’re touching in places that friends don’t touch, whispering sweet things that friends don’t say.

Back in the gym, Hajime approaches Oikawa with a ball, so that the other can practice his serves. As he passes it over, their hands brush against each other for the briefest of moments, their eyes linger for a little too long. This is what gets them through the hours when they can’t be too close: sharing soft smiles and the occasional smirk, touching as much as they can without raising suspicion. But it gives them a taste of what’s to come, and it’s just enough to hold them over until then.

Hajime watches as Oikawa performs a perfect serve, a more than frequent occurrence, but it takes his breath away all the same. What a feat; to be so talented, so thoroughly dedicated, practicing over and over—again and again, not only until he has gotten something right, but until it’s almost impossible for him to get it wrong. No wonder his future looks so full. He’s never deserved anything less.

Oikawa snaps his fingers in front of Hajime, catching his attention once again. "Hey! Did you see that, Iwa-chan? I totally nailed that serve."

"Yeah, I saw it," he replies, hoping to sound uninterested. "Along with all the others you've nailed today."

Oikawa raises a hand to hide his face, feigning embarrassment. "Oh, Iwa-chan. You're too kind," then quirks an eyebrow as he looks Hajime dead in eyes. "Might as well nail _me_ , here and now, if you're that amazed..."

He winks at him, and Hajime makes retching noises—just incase anyone is listening in on their exchange—though he has learned from experience that the rest of his body seems to have a mind of its own at times like this. "Yeah, right. Just trying to combat that infamous inferiority complex of yours."

But once practice is over and the gym is empty aside from their two bodies and one shared soul, Hajime pulls Oikawa in close. He takes in his sweet vanilla scent and the way his body has come to feel so familiar against his own, as though they had been built to fit together like this. They cling to each other for what may have been thirty seconds or three hours; breathing each other in; pressing into one another as hard as they can. 

If six months is all they have left, for now, then Hajime swears to make it the best six months of their lives.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from Shark Week by Lauran Hibberd 
> 
> Iwaoi playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0GrJuR5LH9QtQrih7PFG7B?si=wWEtBeYqRg2_0wsSqFwHUw
> 
> twitter: @iwatron


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